


His Hair is Platinum

by RatPond



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy is Secretly Flambouyant, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, Draco Malfoy-centric, Draco Style Dramatics, Draco has no skills, Draco is Pathetic, Draco is Petty, Draco is Whiney, Draco is a Joke, Drama, Fashion & Couture, Harry works Politics, Humor, M/M, Maybe that's why I feel so similar to him?, Not Blonde, Ridiculous Clothing, Twink Draco Malfoy, draco is spoiled
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatPond/pseuds/RatPond
Summary: Draco has no real life skills, is a bit of a coward, and down right pathetic. He realizes this. He also realizes that things have to change if he wants to keep Malfoy Manor. Draco has reached the lowest of low, and he's not afraid to utilize everything within him to start climbing back into society's good graces. Cue one famous Boy Who Lived, a favor, and a scheme that only Draco can pull off, and Draco starts to find changes not only in himself but in the war affected world around them.Or. . .Draco becomes a fashionista and likes it.





	His Hair is Platinum

           “Tch.” Draco clenched his teeth together and flopped back on his bed. He threw the letter into the fire, but still the words seemed to be branded in his mind.

            _“After the disgrace your family went through, you’ll soon understand that marrying me is the best choice a person like you. For someone whose only talent is running, this is the best choice left to you.”_

“I know I’m a coward, I know it.” Draco sneered at himself in the mirror.

            _“You’re family showed their true colors during the war, the only way to keep your wealth and prestige is to marry well at this point.”_

“You did the same, you damn bastard!” Draco snarled. He pummeled his fist into his pillow. “Your family supported the Dark Lord too!” The difference was they hadn’t been caught.

            _“With your meager talents and lack of magical power, you won’t be able to make it in after this war without a husband by your side. Someone to guide you and take care of you.”_

“Am I a fucking child??” Draco raged. “And you don’t know anything about my magic!”

            _“I’m simply concerned for you, Draco. You’re my dear friend and I don’t want you to have to sink into poverty. It’s in your best interest to marry me. I’ll take care of you and treat you well. You won’t want for anything. You’ll be in the best of hands.”_

Draco pushed his head in his pillow and screamed.

            _“You’re hopefully soon to be husband, Theodore Nott.”_

“You goddamn bastard, demeaning me like this?!?” Draco screeched, voice muffled. In absolute mortification, he could feel the beginning of tears begin to prickle in the corner of his eyes. He sniffled. That was the problem, wasn’t it. The letter was absolutely outraging, but only because it held truth within it.

            Draco wasn’t the most powerful in magic. Sure, he had some talents. He excelled in potions, though would never be a potion master, and charms. He had a small amount of talent in transfiguration. Yet. . . he was less then talented in the Dark Arts and other offensive type magic’s. Anything requiring powerful displays of magic, he lacked. He was better with tricky bits of magic, the ones that took control and time. It was all true. Then came the second kicker.

            The Malfoy family wasn’t doing well. His father was in Azkaban. His mother was damn near insane from the fighting and missing his father. Their fortunes were lacking, as most of it had gone to the Dark Lord’s ambitions and then paying war reparations. The Malfoy family couldn’t afford to live the way they had for generations. Draco had already sold several of their vacation homes trying to pay off his mother’s spending habits. It was beginning to look like a dire future for them. Was Draco’s worth really only in his eligibility for marriage? Was that all he was worth now?

            “I won’t be some sort of pretty side piece of a husband!” Draco cried out, the tears finally coming out in full force.

            “Drakie?” Narcissa’s voice came from the other side of his door. Draco sniffed again and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

            “Come in, Mother.” Draco cleared his throat.

            “Drakie, why are you crying?” This only made the tears fall quicker. “Is your life so dire that you need to shed tears? You didn’t even cry during the war. . . you were so strong.” Now he was sobbing, cause even that wasn’t true. He had cried during the war. So many times. Maybe he just wasn’t built for this sort of thing. It had been almost a year since the end of the war, but Draco still felt insecure and scared at every moment.

            “Mother, I think our family is going to fall into ruin.” He admitted.

            “Now Drakie, don’t say such things. You’re the head of this family now. It’s your responsibility to take the reins and guide us from this mess.”  

            “DON’T PUT MORE PRESSURE ON ME, MOM!!” Draco wailed.

            “Draco.” Narcissa’s eyes locked onto his, clearer then they had been for a long time. Draco spluttered to stop with his tears. “You are a magnificent Slytherin, I have never doubted you. Things like courage, like loyalty, intelligence, those are things that a Slytherin doesn’t need. Don’t cry over what you are missing, use the things you do have and bring the Malfoy house out of the ruin you seem to think is near. Lie, cheat, steal, manipulate everything before you and you will succeed.”

            “That’s terrible advice, mother.” Draco replied blandly. His mother was definitely still a bit insane.

            “I’ll make it simpler then.” She groused. “I have always believed in the head of our household. I think you need to do the same.” Then she swished from the room, expensive robes flowing out behind her.

            All alone in his room again, Draco pondered on that. He was now the head of the Grand House of Malfoy. Maybe he just had to believe in himself a bit more.  A piece of paper caught his eye, a newspaper article his mother had left behind from her little visit. He picked it up and instantly hissed in disgust.

            “Why would you bring this trash in here?!?” Draco screeched and threw the article in the fire as well. Still, now the article was burning brighter in his mind then Theo’s godforsaken letter.

            HARRY POTTER YOUNGEST EVER TO BE ON HOGWARTS BOARD OF GOVERNORS!

 

            His father’s old position.

            “I’ll damn well show you all what this useless Slytherin can do.” Draco cursed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            “I have no talents. None at all.” Draco despaired as he watched the rest of his savings burn to dust. The company he had invested everything in had gone under. His father had sworn that they were the ones to invest in after the war, so Draco had followed his advice. What did his family have left? Enough for 2 more months of living if they kept spending like they always did. They’d be thrown out in the streets in 2 months, forced to sell all their possession if Draco couldn’t scrape something together.

            Currently, he was walking through Diagon Alley hoping for a miracle or maybe a help wanted sign that paid more than 2000 galleons a month. It was unrealistic, Draco knew it already. His mother could run through more than that in a single day, and no shops in Diagon Alley would pay that much to employees without work experience and talent.

            He paused suddenly, eyes flitting to a newer shop. The front was swathed in greys and blues, looking a bit morbid but still grand. He had never seen this shop before. Draco shrugged and entered. Absolutely garish clothing instantly met his vision, as far as the eye could see. Drab, colorless clothing hanging in tasteless styles across hangers.

            “What is this?” Draco whispered horrified. Is this what passed off as _fashion_ now days? This. . . this was barely grunge! This was just depressing funeral like clothing. Draco knew he had been out of it lately, but he didn’t think the world had fallen so far into disarray to allow such terrible displays of clothing out into the streets.

            “Draco.” A new voice rang out. “How surprising to see you here.” Draco turned with a cringe. He knew that voice.

            “Astoria.” He said flatly. His once fiancé. They had been engaged until the time came to pay her dowry. The Malfoy’s hadn’t been able to afford it. It had fallen into shambles after that. What a humiliation it had been to have the Malfoy smeared across the papers because they couldn’t pay a simple dowry. Draco still felt the heat of embarrassment from it. Astoria had obviously not forgotten the shame either as she looked him with an icy glare.

            “What are you doing here? Surely the Malfoy family cannot afford such articles. My company is the cutting edge of Avant Garde styles.” Astoria sniffed.

            “You mean you’re actually selling this shite? I wouldn’t buy any of this. This is what you call style nowda-“ Malfoy cut himself off. “Actually, I speak too soon. I do see one article in this entire store I’d be willing to wear.” He pointed to the pair of boots, white dragon leather, enchanted to gleam and sparkle. The tips were pointed, buckles across the very top of the shoe. The sparkled like diamonds and would go up to just beneath his knee. They were quite handsome, Malfoy admitted and he cursed his empty wallet.

            “These damn things?” Astoria spat out a harsh laugh. “I humoured my sister and allowed her to play fashion designer for a day and promised to try to sell it in my stores. These boots have been on display for over a month and not a single person has shown interest. Shows what someone like you knows about true fashion. Do you let your pathetic mother dress every morning? It looks like your still wearing last month’s wardrobe!”

            Draco gasped, his hand clutching the shirt he was wearing. Alright, he would admit that this did come from last season’s fashions, and perhaps his mother had picked it out for him, but that didn’t mean a damn thing!

            “You take it too far, Astoria!” He responded sharply, glaring. “If I chose to become a designer, you’d find yourself struggling to sell to anyone but pallbearers!” Astoria laughed again.

            “You think everyone is like you? Wanting to wear sparkly little boots, heavy rings and not a strand of hair out of place? Our DARK LORD DIED. I’ll wear black until the Purebloods have regained their rightful place in society!” She grabbed the sparkling dragon skin boots, and threw them at Draco. “Take them then! Take them, and show the world how glibly the Malfoys think of the Purebloods being brought down to this level! Celebrate like the other filth that thinks it’s worth a single galleon on the street. I don’t want to see your face in my shop again, hell if I ever see you again it’ll be a day too soon!” She waved her wand and the shop ejected Draco and the boots out into the street.

            “DAMN YOU TO HELL!” Draco screamed at the shut doors before noticing the eyes on him. He sneered at the on lookers and snatched up the pretty boots and tried to scrape up his broken pride. He slithered into a side alley and sat heavily down.

            “The Malfoys, what a joke we are.” He sighed to himself. That was the jist of it. The Malfoys were shunned by both the victors of the war for supporting the Dark Lord, but also by the losers because they had run in the last battle. The Malfoy’s had no honor left, just their lives and dwindling galleons.

            “Left with no honor, no pride.” Draco mumbled and took his head in his hands. “How can we persevere now?” He raised his head and looked at the grimy alley walls. In front of him, a Potter poster waved and smiled brightly at him despite its dilapidated state.

            “I suppose that means I have nothing less to lose.” Draco scoffed. He slid the boots on his feet and smiled as they gleamed. His genuine pair of ASTORIFIC boots. He stood and pressed a hand to flatten the poster against the wall, covering Potter’s face. He smiled bitterly at the title.

ALL EYES ON THE BOY WHO LIVED TWICE OVER!

 

            “I’ll take back every galleon that’s been taken from me.” He hissed and walked from the alley, back a little straighter then it had before and a new plan beginning to form in his head. The world hadn’t seen the last of Draco Malfoy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            It was in the Manor’s attic, buried deep beneath the aging family tapestries. Draco had had to sell their frames, but wouldn’t let the tapestries be seen without their garnishes around their edges. He nodded as he pulled the length of fabric out. It had once been the Manor’s drapes decades ago. Black dragon skin, still having the same quality as the day the Malfoy’s had purchased it. They had covered the grand front windows of the foyer and was enough to make ten suits. Draco grinned and dragged it back to his room. He laid it out on the floor and began waving his wand. This would be a masterpie-

            “Wh-What, how, it!!” Draco stuttered as the fabric began to smoke. “No, no, no! Stop!” He quickly put out the fire.

            “What just happened?” Draco cried as he looked at the cut he just ruined. Apparently, charming the fabric would be harder than he had thought. He sat down and touched the fabric. Dragon skin was extremely hardy in resisting spells, and it didn’t like to change. He gazed down at the sparkling boots on his feet. How had Astoria done it? Draco’s face twisted up and he looked over the long length of fabric he left. He would just have to figure out himself, cause he damn well wasn’t going to ask. Draco rolled up his sleeve and griped his wand tighter.

            “Let’s try again.” He muttered and got to work. Soon the air was filled with the sound of explosions, screeched curses, and tears. Narcissa, peered around the corner to see what the ruckus could possibly be, but soon fled as flame roared down the hallway. She would leave Draco and his ‘fun’ alone for the moment. She had to buy new vases anyways. Draco had done something with the last ones they had. . .

            By the time the manor quieted down, it was half past eleven. Draco finally exited his rooms, a single garment clutched in his hands. The rest of the dragon skin was toast. This single article was the results of his hard work, and possibly the only way Draco had to save the Malfoy wealth. He raised it up to gaze upon the beauty but quickly averted his eyes. If he looked at it for too long he would never be able to give it up. Such a beautiful thing, it didn’t deserve where it was going but Draco had no choice at this point. He would not marry Theo. Draco gritted his teeth and walked to the floo.

            “Potter flat!” He called and then disappeared in a swoosh of green fire.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            “Expelliarmus!” Potter’s voice instantly rang out, snatching Malfoy’s wand from his hand. Draco didn’t give a damn about his wand right now and gladly let it fly into Potter’s hand.

            “What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Potter glared. “Trying to assassinate me? How did you get through the wards?”

            “Harry Potter.” Draco glared right back at his nemesis.

            “What, you trying to find black mail or something? Thought you could sneak in here and try to humiliate me?” Potter continued.

            “Potter! Stop talking for one minute.” Draco snarled. He glared.

            “What are you here for, Malfoy?!” Harry threw right back, wand firmly centered at Draco’s chest.

            “I’m here. . . I’m here for your. . . God it hurts to even say. Do I have to really say this?” Draco cried out to the powers above. Potter’s eyebrows rose at the dramatic blonde.

            “Just spit it out.” Potter replied blandly.

            “Fine! Just know you have no delicacy, you utter boar.” Draco straightened his shirt, huffing a bit in self-righteousness. Potter simply waited. “I am here. . . for your cooperation.”

            “My cooperation? Are you trying to kidnap me or something?” Potter replied quizzically in disbelief.

            “No! I. . . I have an opportunity for you.” Draco tried again. He fidgeted under Potter’s hard gaze.

            “An opportunity.” Potter repeated. His dry tone made it clear he didn’t believe a word of Draco’s bull shit.

            “You’re really going to make me say it!” Draco finally cried out. “Fine! I will! Not like I have any pride left. . .” Despite his words, Draco still only fidgeted in his fancy boots and stared at the ground.

            “I. . . ed. . . uo. . lp.” Draco muttered.

            “Where those even words?” Harry asked loudly. Draco cringed but spoke up.

            “I. Need. Your. Help.” He repeated. Harry reeled back a bit, shocked. His posture relaxed a smidgen and his wand hand drooped.

            “You need my help?” He said dismayed. Potter looked utterly bemused.

            “That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Draco snapped. “I just need a tiny favor.”

            “Well what is it? You’re not going to ask me to drink poison or something are you?” Harry spat back. Draco glared, eyes frostier then they had ever been before.

            “You’re going to the Annual Gala of the Four Founding Fathers tomorrow, an elite charity ball only for the richest and most important of our society.” Draco rumbled. “And you’re going to go wearing this!” He thrust out the product of all his hard work, his sweat, tears and blood at Potter. Potter gaped.

            “The hell is that?!?”

            “This is my master piece, the start of a new era of fashion!” Draco hissed back at the prat.

            “That things looks like you killed some sort of sparkly fairy dragon and made a trench coat out of it, and is that stars shooting off the back?! I’ll be the laughing stock if I go wearing that!” Potter protested.

            “This is the pinnacle of fashion!”

            “That’s the pinnacle of fashion failure!” Potter shot back.

            “Alright, I didn’t want to humiliate you and bring it up, but you force my hand.” Draco took a breath as Potter warily watched him, expecting the worse. Blackmail? His porn history?

            “You owe me, and I’m calling in my debt! You have to wear its!”

            “I owe you nothing! You literally OWE ME a freaking life debt! Are you hallucinating?” Potter yelled back at the ridiculous blonde. Draco huffed, his face growing scarlet with rage. Potter tensed once more, expecting a punch to the face, maybe a bout of wandless magic, some sort of attack. He had no idea what to expect out of the other man. He certainly didn’t expect what happened next.

            Draco imploded. He suddenly collapsed to the ground and crocodile tears began streaming down his face. He tried turning away so Potter couldn’t see but the damage was already done.

            “M-Malfoy?” Potter stuttered, his eyes plates. He crouched and awkwardly patted Malfoy’s arm. Draco jerked away and sobbed harder. Potter was suddenly reminded of his 3-year-old godson’s tantrum and felt even more out of depth.

            “Hey, hey, Malfoy, it’s gonna be okay. I’ll wear your little coat thing okay?” Potter conceded. “Why don’t I make some tea and you can calm down a bit and then tell me what’s going on.” There was obviously a lot more than met the eye if Malfoy had sunken down to falling apart his school yard enemies. He gathered the blubbering man and made a pot. They chatted, long into the night. Malfoy let the truth fall out, his family’s decline in prestige, wealth, trying to keep up with their usual spending habits.

            “S-s-so, if you don’t wear it, I’m going to have to either sell my entire wardrobe to be and live in an APARTMENT! We’ll have to get rid of all the house elf’s and CLEAN OURSELVES. I won’t even be able to get next season’s boots!” Draco finally finished. Potter’s eyebrows rose.

            “Erm, Malfoy. Those are all normal things. Most everyone does that, I think you’ll be fine.” Potter hesitantly said. Draco glared and prepared himself. His trump card.

            “I’ll only have one option if you won’t wear it. I’ll have to marry Theo.” Draco announced.

            “How did we jump to marriage?” Potter gaped.

            “He’s the only one able to afford me! I can’t believe I’d ever have to stoop this low. . . my virginity being sold away, all because Potter wouldn’t wear my coat!” Draco cried.

            “Your virginity?!?” Potter’s jaw was on the floor. “You’re still a virgin, no wait, that’s not important! Why are you suddenly giving this Theo guy your virginity and marrying him?”

            “It’s my only option left. Otherwise I’ll be forced on the streets.” Draco let his tears fall.

            “Having to get an apartment is not living on the streets!” Potter protested. Draco made his tears fall harder and quicker. “Fine! I already said I’d wear the damn thing, Malfoy!” Draco’s tears suddenly dried very quickly and he beamed at Potter.

            “Good. Now stand up, I’ll fit it to you. Sadly, I was only able to make an outer coat for the event, I wanted to make a full suit” –Potter imagined a sparkly wonder like this coat in a full suit and cringed- “but this will have to do. Show me the rest of your wardrobe, I’ll find something adequate to go with it. I don’t expect much from the likes of you.” Draco ushered Potter to his closet.

            “How are you still insulting me after I agreed to help you?” He muttered. Draco ignored him and swept through his racks of clothes.

            “Burn this!” He snapped, throwing a ASTORIFIC pair of leather shoes at Potter.

            “Those were expensive, I’m not burning them!” Potter refuted. “Besides, they’re ASTORIFIC, that’s the hottest name in the fashion world right now. Even I know that.” Gleaming eyes of ice met Harry’s and he actually felt acute fear in that moment.

            “They’ll be worse than trash once I’ve made my way into fashion.” Harry let him be and minded his own business as Draco blasted through his wardrobe and put together an outfit for the Gala.

            “Now put it on.” Potter complied. He just wanted to go to bed at this point. Draco looked him over silently.

            “That’ll do.” He finally said. “Wear that tomorrow.”

            “Alright, can I go to sleep now.” Potter said flatly.

            “Tsk. I suppose. I’ll see myself out, but before that-“ Draco held his hand out.

            “What?” Potter asked, staring down at it. Did Draco want a high five or something?

            “You don’t expect to get such quality for free do you? Pay up. That coat is 340 galleons.”

            “I’m helping you out, I’m not going to pay your ridiculous fee for your stupid coat!” Potter protested.

            By the end, Draco was walking home 340 galleons richer and Potter was grumbling as he looked at himself in the mirror scowling. He didn’t know how that crook of a blonde had managed it, not only getting him to do a favor for no damn reason but getting Harry to pay for it as well. Still, as he looked at himself in the mirror, dragon skin coat gleaming darkly, somehow he kind of liked it. . .

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            “POTTER, MR. HARRY POTTER! WELCOME TO THE GALA, TELL US WHO YOU ARE WEARING TONIGHT?” The report screamed at him over the noise, microphone held to his lips. Potter swept back his hair, sent his best smile forward. He honestly felt like a bit of a clown in the coat, but he’d been in politics for long enough to know that confidence was everything. The crowd all around him wore willowy drapes, in dark morbid colors and dreary cuts. No one wanted to celebrate after such hard times. Harry was the only one in such ludicrous clothing. Draco had paired the black, sparkling gaudy dragon skin coat, stars enchanted to flow off the edges when Potter moved, with a full light pink suit. The suit under was clearly an accent to the coat, bringing out the hidden colors in the iridescent dragon scales. It was much like a trench coat that muggles would wear, except for the train that went a full six feet behind Potter.

            People’s eyes bugged when they saw him stepping through the doors, rumors instantly beginning. Potter had never actively tried to get attention at events like this. . . but somehow it felt a bit good to have people talking about his insane dragon skin coat that shot out stars rather than the last speculation of his sexuality. (Why the pink suit didn’t make people question that even more, Harry would never know. Barmy wizards.) He strutted forward, smirking slightly as the camera’s attention fell solely on him. He could hardly see through the bright flashes.

            “Me? Haven’t you heard of DoubleSly yet?” Potter raised an eyebrow and let his teeth show, hands falling into his pocket as he turned into a perfect 3/4th pose. The cameras went mad and the screams calling his name doubled in volume. “I’m tired of wearing those dull articles that have been popular lately. Fashion needs to step it up, and God does DoubleSly have it.” Potter turned sharply, the coat swishing out behind him and flinging stars while it did so. The coat gleamed as Potter went to enjoy the rest of the party. No one ever saw the words he just spoken to the media had been carefully scrawled on his arm in a certain blonde’s script. Draco wasn’t going to let Potter forgot to say the right words. This was finally the beginning of a new era of clothes. Draco’s clothes.

            Harry shook his head and laughed. He looked up at the stars, a light blue that seemed to almost match the color of Draco’s icy eyes. What tenacious man, he wouldn’t have ever expected it from the blonde he knew back in school.

            “I think that’s the most honest I’ve ever seen you, Draco.” Harry whispered, before turning his gaze back to the stage before him. After all, he wasn’t here just to wear ridiculous clothing. He had politics to get to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            “This is the reveal of a century!” Candy, the announcer for the most popular magazine of the age, called out. “And Witch Weekly has the scoop!” She waved her hands dramatically and backed away.

            “You’ll never believe who is behind the revolutionary coat Mr. Harry Potter was wearing two days ago at the Four Father’s Gala. Presenting the unexpected creator of the up and coming pillar of fashion brand DoubleSly, we give you DRACO MALFOY!” The curtains gusted open, revealing Draco Malfoy. The crowds around the stage screamed in shock, surprise, wonderment, jealousy, horror and love. Draco stepped forward.

            He wore the boots thrown at him, ASTORIFIC white dragon skin, sparkling with the gold buttons lined across the tops. A tight pair of slacks were cut off right before the top of them, the edges uneven and leaving a sliver of pale, hairless skin peeking out. Tassels fell from the edge, leaving a shimmery curtain over the sliver of skin. They clung to his thighs, showing the muscle almost obscenely. They had been charmed to the extreme, appearing to ripple lightly like a serene pond with his every step. In direct contrast to the wardrobe ASTORIFIC and other top designers had been throwing out, his slacks were a powder purple instead of the darker colors they favored. The seams of the pants didn’t truly connect, the pants were held together with tiny golden chains lacing the sides and showing more skin.

            The outfit only got more ridiculous as you traveled upward. Matching in a shocking garish fashion, he wore a tuxedo cut top in pastel teal, the bottom again cut harshly and showing his sharp hip bones above the waist line. It didn’t close, instead more golden chains hooked it together and showcased the white turtle neck crop top underneath the coat. The sleeves were cut off, and Draco’s biceps were bare. Tiny golden bracelets were hundreds in numbers and slid along his forearms, his nails a stark white against the color he wore.

            In summary, it was a walking talking fashion disaster of the highest level. Yet, the even as the crowds eyes bulged at his obscene, garish, downright strange sense of fashion, there were teenagers watching from their homes with their noses pressed to the TV’s.

            _“I wish I could pull that off.”_ Was the secret whisper that rang through the watchers of Witch Weekly. They had never seen a brighter man then the one in front of them, grinning as if he had never been told no in his life. He looked like a Pureblood somehow still, despite the fact that most Purebloods would never be seen dead in such an outfit. He looked like supple hands that had never worked hard a day in their life, he looked like belligerence and rebellion against an older generation. He looked like money, wealth, like fury, a middle finger to those that tried to dictate to the younger generations. Draco Malfoy looked fabulous.

            “W-wha?” Candy the host was speechless as Draco stepped onto the stage, an easy swagger in his step. His hips shimmed as he walked, that damnable low cut slacks showing those model sharp hip bones. Draco might not be extraordinarily powerful in his magic, he might be a coward that ran from wars, he might be a bit of a cry baby when rough came to tough, but he did know how to use attention as his weapon.

            “DoubleSly.” Draco paused, his hair falling dashingly in front of his one eye. He looked the picture of Prince Charming, he knew. Draco had been practicing the move all night. He let the dramatic pause linger a bit longer as the crowd caught their breath. “DoubleSly has been a long time coming,” Draco flat out lied, as if he hadn’t thought of the whole thing a mere three days ago.

            “I have spent too long watching the world of fashion fall into decline. Too long I have let you all wear the garments of peasants.” He sighed heavily, tilting his head back and letting the camera’s see the long thing line of his perfect throat and jawline. “Too long is over. It’s time for our fashion to be restored. It’s time for a new age of clothing!”

            “Er. . . Mr. Draco Malfoy, what was your inspiration for such. . .” The host obviously tried to think of a word that could sum up his style. “Such. . . such clothing?” She failed.

            “My inspiration? Only the long nights I spent staring up at the glittering stars, the nature around us, and the beauty within all witches and wizards in each of us. I couldn’t stand letting that beauty stay dormant for any longer, I had to create something that would reflect our true selves!” Draco sighed like a love stricken teenage girl. . . which somehow fit his character. Again, the truth of it was much different. He had really mostly cried at his house and cursed Potter and the world from within his rooms. Still, that wouldn’t be as cool as the lines he decided to really say.

            “Um. . . alright. Tell us, why did you decide to reveal your new brand at the gala-“ She was cut off by one of the crowds bystanders, an obvious pureblood wearing black, tight, robes with a half veil, again black across her face. Draco cringed at the clothes. She looked fresh from a funeral.

            “How can you disrespect us Purebloods like this? Our Lord has died, perished for good! You choose to mock the pain of us Purebloods with your garb! This is time for mourning and reflection, you dare bring these obscenities in sight of our young malleable children!” Silence rang out in the studio. Draco could see Purebloods within the crowd nodding in agreement. Draco stood from where he had settled and took the mic from the stunned host.

            “You’re right.” He said. You could hear a wand drop. “The Dark Lord is dead. The Purebloods lost. Our prestige is nothing in relation to the new laws coming forward. Our riches are repairing our perceived enemy’s strongholds. The most pure and strong of our families are in Azkaban. But let me ask you this.” Draco took a deep breath.

            “HOW DAMN LONG ARE YOU ALL GOING TO BE THE LOSERS IN THIS WAR!” Draco roared. “How damn long?” He whispered. The crowds of woman in front of the stage collectively took a step forward, the teenagers at home frantically told their friends to turn on Witch Weekly. They all held their breath’s as Draco opened his mouth to speak again.

            “I, for one, am tired of losing. Are you Purebloods or are you pallbearers stumbling behind the muggleborns and half-bloods as they turn this world on its head, all the while dragging along the coffin of your damnable loser of a Dark Lord. He lost, do you get it? THE DARK LORD IS DEAD. He lost.” Draco breathed in. “I’m not going to ever lose again, and I’m never going to look the loser again. I’ll swathe myself in clothes befitting a king, because I am a Pureblood. I am a Slytherin. I do not lose, I persevere and I stand. It’s time for the Slytherin to stand again and show the worth in their blood and power.” Draco fell back into his seat and passed the microphone back to the host. Not a word came from the crowd, but every eye was on him, single mindedly absorbing this man’s every word and move. They were all watching him.

            “T-That was a moving speech Mr. Draco Malfoy!” Candy tried to recover a light hearted atmosphere. The tension was high. “Tell me, I saw those boots in the last ASTORIFIC magazine. Why are you wearing your competitors brand?” Draco grinned sharply, each of his teeth showing. He swung both of his feet off the ground and reclined them on the coffee table rudely, the soles clearly showed from the movement.

            “Why? Have you never seen anything more beautiful than that name beneath my foot?” The sole, a bit worn down and dirty, a piece of gum stuck to the bottom, still read clearly. ASTORIFIC. “Nothing feels better then walking on that scum of name.”

            Watching miles away, black dragon skin coat on, Harry Potter laughed at the nerve that the little blonde fool had. He just might make it, Potter thought to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Draco's character, in the books and in this fic, because he is everything that is weak in myself. He is spoiled, bratty, petty, a coward at times, loves his family. In this fic, I'm trying to make him show all these imperfect qualities that people try to hide, but still have him be a likeable character. I'm trying to give him flaws, because everyone has them, but they seem to show less in fics, books and movies. 
> 
> Also there may be spelling mistakes and such, but I dooooon't care! I have a couple plans for this, but nothing set in stone. No idea how long it shall be, but it won't be a heavy piece. Fun loving and Draco Style Dramatics only.


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